Preiddeu Annwn
by AKAtheCentimetre
Summary: A series of drabbles concerning everything and anything Prydain. Co-written, rated T for angst and occasional adult themes.
1. Chapter One

Hi everyone! Yes, I'm back, though not with more _BSGS_ as I promised…

A great livejournal friend of mine, known as speakmefair, and I recently co-wrote a whole series of drabbles about Prydain (we're both in love with Gwydion, I was bored at work – you do the math!), and we thought it would be great to share them with you all. Some of them are angsty, some are sad, some are funny – but we hope all of them will be enjoyable! Incidentally, SMF is a native Welsh speaker, and she came up with the awesome title of this story as a whole. "Preiddeu Annwn" translates to mean "Prizes of Annwn" or "Prizes of Arawn/the 'Otherworld'."

I'll be posting up a pair of these every once in a while. Those marked "SMF" were written by speakmefair, and the ones marked "AKA" written by me. Reviews would make us very happy! Thanks!!

**DISCLAIMER: It doesn't belong to us. RIP Lloyd Alexander - and thank you.**

* * *

**1. Coll  
**  
He never thinks about who he was. Never dreams about what he did, never feels the old responsibilities weigh on him. Dallben gave him that peace, and he is grateful.

It is only sometimes, after those who still _are_, who still dream, who are still relied upon, come to the little house, only after he has been detailed to keep Taran out of the way and sees the resentful longing for something more in the boy's eyes, that he wishes he still did, too.

When it comes back to him, he doesn't regret it for a second. He feels joy.

- SMF

**2. Medwyn's Valley  
**  
When Taran thinks back on Medwyn and his fauns and the great hulk of the ship rising out of the mountain, he doesn't feel peace or love or protection. Instead, there is only pity.

It is a strange emotion to have regarding a place that should be a guaranteed sanctuary. But Taran remembers the crushing weight of the outside world, how it found its way through the mountains, wormed its way through the tons of rock and snow. It was always there at the back of his mind, tormenting him, urging him onward. And the solitude and beauty around him seemed all the more superficial and distracting for it.

He does not know whether Medwyn feels the same. If the old man does, he can only be sorry.

- AKA


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: choices and consequences

Again, "SMF" is livejournal user speakmefair, and "AKA" is myself, AKAtheCentimetre. I think we might be working on putting up two every day… so keep us on your radar!

Chapter Two: choices and consequences.

**DISCLAIMER: Not ours.**

* * *

**3. Choice  
**  
_One wish alone._

She does wish it, and with all her heart. But the rest of her, Dallben-tutored, schooled by learned patience, wonders if it is her right. There is so much else -

Flewddur grieves, and she does not know why, and Gwydion should have had the kingship. So much pain she could remove, so much loss, one twist of metal and she and Taran could leave to the place of deathless content -

She could wish, she could wish, she _wishes_ -

But they have made their choices. It would be selfish of her, for once, _not_ to.

-SMF

**4. Shores  
**  
Sometimes Taran wanders along the beach at Caer Dathyl, his face turned away from the rebuilt castle towards the ocean. More often than not these wanderings take place at sunset, and Eilonwy watches from one of the white towers as her king paces in the burnished orange light.

It is ironic to her that of all people, he should be the one saddened by his choice to stay - or at least doubtful of it. He was the one who made the decision, after all, and she was the one who sacrificed her power to remain. And she, too, misses their absent companions just as deeply.

But Taran now has the weight - literally - of the world on his shoulders. And sometimes she cannot help but want to return to the past and make him leave with her.

- AKA


	3. Chapter Three

In this chapter: Longing, and a bit of comedy at last!

**DISCLAIMER: **Not ours. Darnit.

* * *

**5. Other Seas**

The sea air is warm and pleasant and refreshing at once, filled with a soft scent that bears no resemblance to the familiar harshness of salt, clearing the senses.

_A Fflam is grateful._

But not entirely. He loves his country, unwilling King though he has been. He loves the old ways, the old desire for adventure. He loves -

"Are you still unhappy?" Gwydion asks.

"No." Flewddur breathes in the strange air, and does not listen for the sound of snapping strings. He has lived with what will never be his whole life.

He can live with it through eternity.

- SMF

**6. Laundry Day**

"Gurgi - hold - still!"

"Scrubbings and soapings! Gurgi's getting wet!"

"That's the _point_, you great lummox! How you managed to fall into a vat of honey I will NEVER know... why, it's as daft as trying to teach a pig to sing!"

"Watch it, Hen Wen might hear you."

"Taran! Finally! Get in here and help me wash Gurgi, he's sticky all over. You're the only one who can make him calm down!"

"_Me_? I'm not a washerwoman!"

"_Taran of Caer Dallben_!"

- AKA


	4. Chapter Four

In this chapter: young love and a reaction to a loss you haven't seen before…

Thanks to our reviewers, you guys are awesome - and I hope you continue to enjoy these!

**DISCLAIMER:** Not ours.

* * *

**7. With Age Comes...  
**  
He's been credited with the wisdom of the ages, and doesn't anyone ever stop to think that being able to read isn't quite the same thing?

So he knows, when he hears the perpetual squabbling degenerate into something more suited to six-year-olds -

"You - you _smell_!"

"And your hair is _stupid_!"

"I'll have you know -"

"You couldn't get the rain to know how to _fall_ - "

"You're stupid!"

"You have a spot on your nose!"

- that it would be very unbecoming of him to shout at them, "Oh, just kiss her before I kill you both!"

- SMF

**8. Loss  
**  
Melyngar tugged the reins out of Taran's hand, shrieking with terror, as the last remnants of Spiral Castle came to a tumbling halt in the surrounding grass. Taran shouted and grabbed for the great white steed as she plunged forward towards the ruins, but was left scrabbling, stumlbing into a gaping Eilonwy.

The princess soon followed the mare as she trotted among the stones, half-rearing, foam coating her sides from the desperate exertion. Eilonwy hung back, flinching away from the flying hooves, until Melyngar had exhausted herself, her noble head hanging low and her flanks heaving.

It was only then that the girl dared step forward and she gently took hold of Melyngar's head, stroking the mare's neck and nose.

"I know," she whispered. "I lost my loved ones too."

- AKA


	5. Chapter Five

In this chapter: Fflewddur on hope and a missing scene from _Castle of Llyr._ Gwydion/Achren if you squint.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not ours.

* * *

**9. Hope.  
**  
He has nothing much to offer them. A longing for freedom that he can see mirrored in more youthful form, a desire for escape that he had assumed would leave him as the years slowly begin to pass behind him into a misty haze of fond remembrance.

They love Gwydion, and mourn him. So should he, so would he, so will he, if faced with the inevitable.

But they are not old enough yet to know that true mourning comes without hope, nor to know that hopelessness begets true grief.

A Fflam is hopeful. He will not mourn.

Not yet.

- SMF

**10. Drowning  
**  
The shock of hitting the water knocks all the air out of his lungs, and he lunges out for the surface only to make out another dark form slamming into the ocean above him. Achren's black-clad body is limp and unmoving, but he can see that her icy eyes are open and staring.

When she sees him, his head breaking the surface of the waves and water pouring off his face, she tries to strike out at him again, but her strength is now completely gone. She begins to sink, making no attempt to keep herself afloat.

It takes a mighty effort, but he thrashes through the storm to her side and pulls her to his chest. Her head lolls in exhaustion and her cheek comes to rest against his. Now, all they can do is wait.

-AKA


	6. Chapter Six

In this chapter: Reflections on Fflewddur – one on love, one on captivity.

**DISCLAIMER: Not ours.**

* * *

**11. Understanding.  
**  
He's the last person she should be taking this out on, but he's there, and he's all miserable and - and - and _pointy-faced_, and he hasn't gone away like everyone else.

"And what do you know about love except for your stupid songs anyway?"

"Enough to know you don't throw it away because you think it's duty!" he snaps back, and why has she never seen before how very blue his eyes are, and how very much he has given up, and how very much he loves _them_?

Later, she realises none of his strings even twanged. Not once.

-SMF

**12. Chance  
**  
Achren had just seen Gwydion safely into his cell when over the tramping of the Cauldron-Born's heavy boots, she made out the faint, hesitant tapping from inside the next door.

She stepped over to it and slid open the grill, glaring down into the darkness in annoyance at this interruption in the middle of her triumph over the Prince of Don. A pair of bright, frank blue eyes blinked up at her.

"What?" She prided herself on the icy tone of her voice.

"Er - just wondering, my lady - any chance I could be on my way?"

She snorted and turned away, leaving the grill open. As she walked off down the hallway, it amused her to hear him plucking away at his instrument... softly putting his distress into song. It gave the whole prison a wonderful air of melancholy.

-AKA


	7. Chapter Seven

In this chapter: Achren reflects.

**DISCLAIMER: Not ours.**

* * *

**13. Ox-bow Bend  
**  
She can use anything, twist anything, change worlds, bend power.

She astonishes herself, moving mountains of _impossible_, dissolving them into the silt on the bottoms of rivers that whisper _perhaps_.

But she cannot pluck at heartstrings with truth disguised in longing, with clear, hopeful, precisely limned beauty, she cannot make her lies real.

She cannot make her beauty wanted, or her false perfection gladness to the eye.

She cannot warm green into spring, only soften it into autumn's resigned and gentle fall.

She pretends to hate them for it. In truth, she only yearns for the silt to wash away.

-SMF

**14. Observe  
**  
She watches him as he leads the horse she rides on, the one he offered to her on the beach when it became clear she could not walk from weakness.

She watches him as he lights the fire for the companions with quick, smooth motions, his weatherbeaten hands secure on the flints.

She watches as the sparks light up his green eyes - wolf's eyes.

She watches him as he rides ahead to check for danger, leaving even the swift Llyan in his dust as his steed charges onwards.

She watches as he kisses the princess on the forehead in farewell, and looks upon her with warmth, as though she is his own daughter.

She watches as he slings an arm across the boy's shoulders, providing comfort and friendship when the boy loses sight of his undeclared love as Mona slips below the horizon.

She wishes his arm were around her instead.

-AKA


End file.
